Bobby's Bangers: A Brief Paen to the Humble Sausage

In food terms, I can't really think of any item so potentially varying in quality as a sausage. A quality banger is a thing of beauty, capable of bringing light where previously there was darkness and joy where previously there was sausageless sorrow. And yet. Some sausages are unworthy of the name - limp, bland tubes of flavourless chaff made from goodness knows which bits of goodness knows which unhappy animal. Mr Liz once bought a well-known brand of sausage from a supermarket "because they were on offer and I had these as a child", and they were utterly inedible - flacid pink devil items tasting only of rancid fat. He was forced to repeat one hundred times "not everything I remember from the 1970s will still be appropriate in 2012" and has not been allowed to do the shopping solo since.

But you may remember that last week, I had a brief, thrilling, clandestine encounter at The Mark Addy with James from Bobby's Bangers - his sausages had missed the "Meet the Producers" food barge, and thus he had brought me some to try in the comfort of my own home. Now, obviously I was already minded to enjoy these pushy bangers, for they come emblazoned with my new motto for life, "Keep Calm and Eat Bobby's Bangers" and were also GIVEN TO ME IN A PUB, but last night we tried the Full English Breakfast ones and found them everything we'd ever dreamed of. I'm not always a fan of the heavily adulterated, flavoured banger, but this one really works - large, tasty chunks of black pudding in a sausage with a coarse meaty texture with real heft and chew; even the subtle taste of tomatoes and baked beans add to rather than fight with the flavour of the meat. I served them with my own homemade chilli cornbread, of which I am inordinately proud - in theory, I should no longer need to go to Southern Eleven approximately every three days now I know how to make my own, but we'll see how that goes.

The Madras ones are in the freezer, ready for another day - if you have any ideas what I should serve these with, then please send them my way. You can find these meaty gems at various farmer's markets - drop them an email at james@bobbysbangers to find out where they'll be or find them on twitter @bobbysbangers. James gave me these sausages for free, but I was not obliged to review them and will certainly be buying them in future from Mr Liz's Sausage and Pie Fund (otherwise known as his back pocket). Honestly though, if those sausages REALLY think that deliberately missing the barge last week will get them their own, dedicated blog post, they've got another think coming...oh.

Damson Restaurant, Heaton Moor: Top Birthday Dinner for Aging Husband

Now, I know there's a serious risk that many of you will be as fed up with Mr Liz's epic "Birthday Fortnight" (which, incidentally, is set to rumble on for another week at least) as I am, so I promise that after this post, you will hear no more about it. However, every birthday celebration needs a jewel in its crown, and for Mr Liz this came on Friday - for Friday was DAMSON NIGHT.

I've written before of this little gem of a restaurant, tucked away in Heaton Moor and consistently serving some of the best food in Greater Manchester. Now, however, there is a serious danger that others will become aware of its classy charms, for Damson's chef, Simon Stanley, is up for Chef of the Year at this year's Manchester Food and Drink Festival. As well as being a great chef, he also knows how to spoil a birthday gentleman - here are some of the highlights...

Pre-starter: before the serious business of ordering off the menu began, we had the pleasure of a taster dish that Chef Stanley had created in Mr Liz's honour. This was a splendid "risotto" that had apparently been made with potato rather than rice; it also contained morel mushrooms, truffle butter, a beautiful deep-fried quail's egg and a hefty dollop of magic. I cannot say any more about this dish as I've been sworn to secrecy - suffice to say that I can't really think of a restaurant dish I've had recently that either tasted better, or showed higher levels of skill. I'm ashamed but not remotely suprised to hear myself confessing that I ate all of mine and half of another, slower-at-eating person's; after all, it was practically my birthday.

Starters: Now, you'd hope, I think, that with a party of twelve diners I'd pretty much be able to tell you about ALL the starters on the Damson menu; sadly this is not the case, as two choices proved quite overwhelmingly popular with my selfishly un-blog-focused companions. The first - unsurprisingly - was the chicken liver & foie gras parfait, served with apricot and raisin chutney and toasted ginger brioche; I always have this, so although you've seen it many times on this blog, you can see it again. It was as luxuriously rich as ever, melting unctiously into the warm, sweet brioche with all the decadence required for a birthday celebration. The other hit was the pigeon breast with Bury black pudding croquettes, served alongside celeriac and apple remoulade, pickled golden raisins, honey and whole grain mustard dressing, and it must be noted that it has taken me longer to type the name out than it did for a number of hungry-faced guests to snarf down the perfectly pink pigeon and its array of well-judged accompaniments.

Mains: Once again, there were two stand-out dishes in terms of popularity. Pictured here you see the 28 day aged sirloin steak, served with dauphinoise potato, flat mushrooms, spinach and garlic, topped with a roasted shallot and red wine sauce - a classic dish that is an ever-present on the Damson menu, and deservedly so. Everyone's steak was cooked exactly to their liking, and the meat itself was so tender that the steak knives provided were entirely superfluous to requirements. The dish is almost worth ordering just for the dauphinoise potato, which is so deceptively soft, creamy and yielding to the touch that you almost miss the hefty garlic kick it delivers with such panache right at the end (not a SINGLE vampire troubled us on the way home, and you can't tell me that's just coincidence).

The other very popular dish was the slow cooked belly of middle white pork, served with spiced white cabbage and pulses, pickled golden raisins and - adorably - a little cast iron cassoulet dish containing a wonderfully smoky, sultry side of beans and chorizo (yes, I fear I HAVE had my fork in someone else's dinner again). All the meat used by Damson comes from Chorlton butcher extraordinaire Lee Frost, and the quality really shows in these simple yet elegant dishes. The menu also offers a couple of excellent fish dishes (the cod is pictured here) that went down a treat with two of the diners, and the roasted poussin served with croquettes of the legs, wild mushroom macaroni, new season Wye valley English asparagus and lemon sabayon was also a hit. In short, twelve diners with wildly differing tastes ate every scrap and had nothing but praise for every dish sampled.

Pre-dessert: another special, just-for-Mr-Liz's birthday dish (I fear his birthday expectations may be hard to manage from now on), this was an exciting selection of dainty treats including pistachio panna cotta, caramel salted popcorn and chocolate rum and raisin clusters. We liked. A LOT.

CAKE: now, when we came to Damson for my birthday, we ordered a splendid cake from Katy Torevell, pastry chef at both Damson and The Red Lion at High Lane - a vast chocolate affair laden with Maltesers and chocolate fingers. I have been absolutely banned from using the phrase "monkey see, monkey do, monkey want more" in any way shape or form after the birthday boy took exception to its appearance in my last post, so I shall simply point out that, for his birthday meal, Mr Liz had requested a splendid cake from Katy Torevell - a vast chocolate affair laden with Maltesers and chocolate fingers. And here it is.

So, once again, Damson has delivered. The food was flawless, and with the most expensive main (the steak) at £19.95, is excellent value in view of its quality. The staff coped well with such a large, noisy party and are clearly both knowledgable and enthusiastic about the food that they serve up, happy to answer questions and explain small details about the dishes on the menu. Highly recommended - and if you want to vote for Simon as Chef of the Year, you can do so HERE whilst I take a rest and consider my birthday duties truly and utterly fulfilled.

- Damson is at 113-115 Heaton Moor Road, Heaton Moor, Stockport, Cheshire SK4 4HY; tel. 0161 432 4666; you can find out more about Katy's beautiful cakes at her Sugar Lump Confections via her Facebook page.

Mark Addy Gourmet Evening July 2012: the Beginning of a Triumphant Birthday Fortnight

A few years ago, I decided that birthdays were just too much fun to be restricted to one day per annum, and enthusiastically adopted the tradition of the Birthday Week. This is of course far more sensible than it might sound - most of us these days have a pretty extended network of friends and family, spread out in various geographical locations, and the flexible notion of the Birthday Week allows for the lucky celebrant to catch up with all of those people nearest and dearest to them. And - less worthily - adopting this tradition also means a/ more nights out and b/ more presents.

Unfortunately, in this household, this year is a story of monkey see, monkey do, monkey want MORE. This year is a special birthday for Mr Liz, and he is insisting on a full birthday fortnight, running from Monday just gone to Monday week - and I've got to be honest, I'm exhausted already. I've already eaten my own body-weight in cheese at Tuesday's International Cheese Awards (more of this in another post), and we've still got Damson, Olympic football, Linen at Manchester 235 and - oh - PARIS to go. Last night, though, was the last Wednesday of the month, so you know what that means...Gourmet Evening at The Mark Addy. Here's this month's luscious line-up:

1. Morecambe Bay Shrimp Shooter. Regular Addy-ites will know that this dish has appeared on the Gourmet Evening menu before; its popularity (as well as its local and seasonal nature) meant that this shot glass of hot, fishy broth, rich with cream and flecked with fiery pepper, was deservedly back. I burnt my mouth on it last time and am ashamed to say that absolutely NO lessons had been learnt and I burnt my mouth on it all over again.

2. Glebeland Growers Salad. In his opening preamble, Chef Robert Owen Brown said that he's getting quite into salad, as long as it's "proper salad". I can confirm that ROB's understanding of a "proper salad" is one that contains approximately three small pieces of greenery along with a selection of popular breakfast items - in this case, cubes of warm, crumbly black pudding, slivers of fat, flavoursome bacon, and a quivering poached egg. Absolutely delicious, although I fear disappointment and perhaps a tantrum when I next serve up salad at home to a husband who has been given false expectations of what a healthy dish should be like.

3. Signal Crayfish Cocktail. I really can't get enough of prawn cocktail - I love it in all its forms, even the plastic, luridly pink versions that come in a tub from the supermarket. I can't help it; I think it's because I was born in the 70s. Being the Addy, of course, this was neither lurid nor plastic - saucy, sexy, local crayfish peering haughtily from their rightful place in a martini glass. There was even a tiny - tiny - bit more salad in the bottom of the glass.

4. Roast Pork Fillet with Summer Truffles and Mushrooms. This was the only dish last night that I wouldn't give full marks to - my piece of pork was on the small side (yes, I AM aware that I am in the middle of eating six courses, but hungry is as hungry does) and also a tiny bit dry. The rest of the dish effortlessly redeemed itself though - the potato was deliciously soft, creamy and garlicky, and the sauce pungent with but not overwhelmed by the earthiness of the truffles.

5. Dunham Massey Berries. The desserts at Gourmet Evenings are often deceptively straightforward - this was just fresh, sweet berries in a syrup made from their own brethren, and topped with lots and lots of cream. When the raw materials are this good, you just don't need to do any more to them.

6. Selection of Local Farmhouse Cheese. Course number six is always cheese, and for the second month running I stayed to eat it rather than have it packed up in a foil party bag that ALWAYS intrigues fellow travellers on the bus on the way home. As usual, I ate the blue one, Mr Liz ate the non-blue one, and we fought over the grapes.

I must also mention two exciting things that happened last night - firstly, the generous folk at The Addy had arranged for a bottle of birthday champagne to be waiting on our table for when we arrived (I kindly helped Mr Liz drink it, for it was a school night *good wife*), and secondly, the lovely James from Bobby's Bangers brought me along a bag of sausages that had missed the food barge on Monday (more of these fellows another time). It's been a life-long dream of mine for a man to hand me a bag of sausages in a pub (although I didn't actually know this until it happened), and his small, kind action has earned me countless brownie points with Mr Liz.

So, for the second month running, there was nothing here that could possibly upset anyone - which does rather take the fun out of posting the menu on Facebook and then checking a few hours later to see what particular dishes poeple have got their knickers in a twist about this month. Although please ROB, do NOT see this as a challenge for next month...

Visit Manchester's Meet the Producer Event; OR, All Aboard the Black Pudding Barge!

Sometimes, just sometimes, British food takes a bit of a beating. As I type this, I'm picturing a manicured fleet of whippet-thin Italians casually snaffling that last piece of Parma ham, or an elegant troop of beautiful French ladies toying winsomely with plateful of pastel macaroons; every so often one of these European visions splutters a little at the thought of what we Brits might currently be eating - eels, probably, with chips. In a pie. Between two pieces of bread, with gravy.

This is all a patent fallacy of course. British food is amazing, and here in Greater Manchester we are particularly blessed with great produce, made with dedication and enthusiasm by people who actually care. How fortunate then, that on Monday I found myself on a barge (my second in three days) with a number of these very people - local producers gathered together to showcase their products and network with potential buyers as part of the Visit Manchester "Meet the Producers" event. The whole event was organised by food dynamo Deanna Thomas, a passionate believer in high-quality, local, seasonal produce; she is also inordinately fond of bringing like-minded people together (I'm thinking of renaming her Cilla and buying her a hat) - hence the event, which I'm pretty sure took place on board a barge so that I couldn't execute a smash and grab with all the choicest food items. Over the course of a gloriously sunny two hours, we heard from and sampled produce from each of the following...presented here in order of being grilled by Deanna, waving a microphone.

1. Great North Pie Co. I wrote about Neil Broomfield and his award-winning pies after Mr Liz hoovered up one of the Lancashire cheese and onion variety at the Whim Wham Cafe a few weeks ago; it reappeared here, along with a deliciously pink goat's cheese, beetroot, red pepper and hazelnut offering. Neil will cater for private events, and also hauls his tasty wares round a number of farmer's markets (full list on the website) - we bought some at the Cheadle Maker's Market recently and Mr Liz had eaten one before we'd even made it back to the car.

2. Mrs Love-itts. This lovely Rochdale-based business also makes pies, but had brought along some of their Scotch eggs for us to try. They make them in pretty much every flavour you can imagine - I sampled the caramelised onion, the hot chilli and Stilton variants, and all were sublime - firm, quality, well-seasoned pork meat packed with flavour. They also have great local names - The Curry Mile is the madras version, and The Smithfield is the vegetarian version, made with couscous. You can find them at 24 North Parade, Newhey, Rochdale OL16 3RD; tel. 01706 849852.

3. Manchester Veg People. This enterprising co-operative of Greater Manchester organic growers and restaurants works together to provide fresh, seasonal food at prices that reflect actual, fair costs of production. Alan Creedon, who essentially acts as an agent for local growers, was our boat representative - it was his birthday, and we celebrated it by toasting him enthusiastically and then nicking all his beetroot.

4. Falshaw's Farm Shop. Located on Nabbs Farm in Bury, this fabulous shop-cum-cafe has its own on-site butcher using only the beef and lamb from their own farm. Sadly for the greedy barge-goers, their speciality is their ice-cream, made on the premises using milk from their own cows...and not remotely suitable for travelling long distances on such an unseasonably warm Manchester day.

5. Irwell Brewery. Now, the way to make yourself instantly popular on a barge trip is to be the one who brings the beer, and Peter Booth from Irwell Brewery was no exception. Based in Ramsbottom, the brewery is behind the new twice-yearly local beer festival - the next is in October in aid of Mountain Rescue - and currently refuses to sell to supermarkets because they are not willing to offer even cost price; you can, however, catch their beers at various Greater Manchester pubs, including The Mark Addy. I clanked my way off the boat with a handbag containing an illicit bottle of "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" India Pale Ale, which a delighted Mr Liz proclaimed "deliciously light and pleasantly hoppy" (he went on to say "you are the BEST WIFE IN THE WORLD", although this part did technically remain unspoken).

6. Chocolate Cafe. Another booming Ramsbottom independent business, the Chocolate Cafe has deservedly built a devoted following, and is the current holder of the Manchester Food and Drink Awards title of "Best Coffee Shop or Casual Dining Venue". They also sell their exquisite chocolate products via mail order - or, you can simply contrive to sit next to Paul Morris and his plateful of amazing truffles on board a barge at some point.

7. Bury Black Pudding Company. Well, I couldn't really pretend not to have tried this, what with Mr Liz sending me to Bury Market to pick some up at every possible opportunity. I used to think I didn't like black pudding, but this is the real deal, and it's delicious; Managing Director Debbie Pierce also claims that it is healthy (being all-natural, and full of iron), and whether this is true or not, Mr Liz must NEVER BE TOLD, as he will begin asking for it EVERY DAY, particularly if he believes he has the full force of medical evidence on his side.

8. Bradley's Bakery. Linking seamlessly into our next producer, Mark Bradley had brought along two of his award-winning pies, including the Pork and Bury Black Pudding seen here. Even nicer was the Steak and Cow Heel Pie, inspired by Robert Owen Brown's menu at The Mark Addy and prompting tears of joy and reminiscence in Mr Liz when I took one home for him - he said it reminded him of Wigan, in the 70s, in a good way. It also just might be the nicest pie I've ever had, and this coming from someone who normally leaves half the pastry is quite a compliment. They are based in Ashton but - and again, Mr Liz MUST NOT KNOW - will actually do overnight pie delivery, by courier, because they understand that when you need pie, you need it quick.

9. Of Crust and Crumb. This small Artisan bakery, run by Paulina and Peter, is currently on the move, but their lovingly crafted loaves, rolls, baguettes and focaccia can be found at a number of stockists and farmer's markets which are listed on their website. Half a seeded loaf can also currently be found in my bread bin, but it's delicious, and you're not having it.

10. Oliviccio. Yes, yes, yes, I know - olives are not traditionally native to Greater Manchester. Oliviccio, based in Saddleworth, import the finest fruit from Greece, but then use local herbs and garlic to dress and stuff the olives. I sampled as many of these as I could before Carl and Nikki chased me off with a stick, and found my favourite to be the chilli and garlic - fresh firm olives in a marinade with real bite. You can find the whole product list on the website, along with the farmer's markets they attend; they can also deliver in the Saddleworth area.

11. And last but not least, an honorable mention for Altrincham's Burt's Blue Cheese - Claire couldn't attend, but very kindly sent three of her beautiful semi-soft blue cheeses for us to eat in her absence. Which I did.

And yes, you've interpreted the list correctly - I had essentially been allowed to board a vessel filled with beer, black pudding, pies and Scotch eggs; I'm pretty sure something similar would feature in Mr Liz's last supper. And just to cap it all, splendid Mark Addy chef Robert Owen Brown had come in on his day off to man the kitchen - purely because he believes in local produce.

It's not an easy time for any business at the moment, let alone the small independent producers, but every single one of the lovely people I met today deserves their growing reputation and success. And those imaginary Italians? They'd choke on their Aperol spritzes if they heard even HALF of the conversation that took place outside the Addy later that afternoon regarding BADGER ham...perhaps that's one food item that we won't be seeing aboard a barge any time soon.

The Liquorists' Gin Barge: Local Girl Drinks Gimlets on the High Seas (Sort of)

As previously discussed, there are certain words in the English language that quite naturally collocate; in other words, they go together, like bacon and eggs, salt and pepper, and cheese and anything. Then, a pair of bold young bar consultants going by the name of The Liquorists dared to put two words together in a thrilling new combination that has literally been stopping people in their tracks when they hear it for the first time: GIN and BARGE. Yes, that's right, a Gin Barge this weekend set sail on Manchester's fair waterways, packed to the gunnels with cheery folk frankly over-the-moon to be plied with strong liquor at one o'clock in the afternoon - but more of that later.

The day, snappy entitled "Gincident" (a blend which pleases the English teacher in me as well as the alcoholic) begins with a marvellous sight - the jaunty L.S. Lowry barge making its way into the Castlefield Basin, with Tom - one half of The Liquorists - standing gloriously astern and waving in a jubilant, I-have-a-ship-full-of-gin-here manner (the other half of the dynamic duo, Jody, was presumably inside doing the actual work, making our lunch and supervising the welcoming G & T that greeted us as we boarded). As well as this warm-up drink, over the course of the three-hour cruise (basically down to The Mark Addy and back again) we received ALL of the following:

- Clever, educational stuff from Tom. Whilst the admirable on-board barman whipped up our drinks, Tom told us all about gin, its history, and the cocktails which we were about to receive (and for which we were indeed truly grateful). In the wrong hands, such talk can be merely something you tolerate whilst impatiently awaiting your next beverage, but Tom is funny, and engaging, and completely able to continue with his spiel even when faced with a hen party wearing large, bushy moustaches in his direct line of vision. A true professional.

- Five gin-based cocktails. Yes, five full-sized, full-strength cocktails IS a lot for an afternoon, but in the same way that calories don't count if you eat standing up, alcohol units don't count if consumed whilst on water*.

*not necessarily true.

The drinks we had are artfully dotted around this luxuriously gin-soaked page; they were brought to us at our table at regular intervals, and comprised the following:

1. The Martinez, the forerunner of the Martini - deliciously strong and sweet but quite astonishingly unsuitable for a girl who is rubbish at afternoon drinking. Luckily, I was able to swap it with one of the moustachioed hens for something else.

2. The Singapore Sling, a refreshing and sweet contrast to the preceding drink, with its jaunty combination of pineapple juice, Benedictine and, erm, gin.

3. The Bramble. EVERYONE loves a Bramble: this was LUSH.

4. The Gimlet. One of the hens disliked this, because it "tasted of gin". Not surprising really - it's gin, lime juice, gin, and some more gin.

5. The Marmalade Collins. I'd never tried this one before; it turned out to be a long, refreshing, sweet-yet-tart affair. I also feel it would make an excellent breakfast item, due to its citrus spread-based content.

- In the midst of so much booze, a large, soaky-up sort of repast was clearly called for if we weren't to slowly, helplessly, topple overboard like inebriated lemmings. Now, you'd think that preparing such a feast - in a four feet square kitchen whilst bobbing along the Ship Canal and being heckled by a number of people baying loudly for gin - would be an impossibility: not so. Plate after plate of delicious cold buffet items appeared one by one at our table - salads, couscous, potatoes, pasta...even a cold sausage platter (apologies to the hens, who got little of this last dish once Mr Liz had spotted it). Obviously you don't come on this sort of event for the food, but it certainly matched the high standard of the rest of the day.

Most of the tickets for Gincident were sold months ago, the good people of Manchester clearly knowing a good thing when they heard it. However, as the merry barge will sail every Friday night and every Saturday and Sunday afternoon for the next few weeks, it's worth following The Liquorists on Twitter (@theliquorists) or Facebook in case of last minute cancellations and availability. It's great value at £45, and that "no hangover guaranteed" promise that they so boldly offer? Well so far, it's true*.

*Further testing deemed advisable.

Introducing "B-Day": Bacon Jam, Batman and Love2Eat Bingo

I think we're probably all familiar with the term "D-Day", a phrase which originated from the invasion of Normandy during World War II and which has now come to mean any important or significant occasion. Well, I now propose adding a new phrase to the English lexicon in the form of "B-Day", a term which shall come to mean "a day on which really, really good stuff happens, but that stuff must only begin with a B, or it doesn't count, not as a B-Day anyway". I admit the definition probably needs a little refinement before the OED will accept it, but to illustrate this thrilling new concept, I offer Friday 20th July as an example of a wholly successful "B-Day".

1. Stay in BED awhile, and read a BOOK. Self explanatory this one, really.

2. Have BACON JAM on toast for lunch. The fact that "bacon jam" now has its own, well-used hashtag on Twitter just goes to show how love of porcine goodness is sweeping the nation - I even had an exemplary helping of this sweet-yet-salty, sticky-yet-sturdy product on sourdough toast at Solita this week. The fact that I was able to have it at home is thanks to a lovely friend who MAKES it - she guards the recipe most assiduously, but we do occasionally have clandestine meets where she hands over samples of the good stuff in anonymous, unmarked containers; my God it's good. You can see it here, but you can't have any of it.

3. Go to the cinema to watch BATMAN, the, erm, Bark Knight Rises. Now, you wouldn't normally get me anywhere near a film that lasts 146 minutes, and I must admit that since following October Jones' immense "Tweets from my Dog" on Twitter I can't take this franchise entirely seriously, thanks to a perpetual image of a dog in a cape going "I'm BATDOG, LOL". However, in honour of "B-Day", I went - out of professionalism, and not because the film has Christian Bale and Aidan Gillen in or because Mr Liz bought me a giant bag of Peanut M & Ms. Oh, the film is v. good by the way *carefully places tick next to "film review skills demonstrated: check"*

4. Go to the BINGO. The third Friday of every month is now Bingo Night at Love2Eat Deli on BURTON Road in West Didsbury, an event that has run occasionally in the past but will now be a regular fixture. If you quite fancy the idea of bingo but are, like me, terrified by your own mental image of a fleet of colossally aggressive old ladies, staring, gimlet-eyed, at a whole raft of different cards at which they regularly jab with a spring-loaded, pimped up super-dabber, then this is for you - nice people, in a nice restaurant, eating nice food and doing just a little gentle dabbing on the side.

Obviously that doesn't mean we don't play to win. I didn't win ANYTHING, but a steely-faced Mr Liz, grimly concentrating on his game card with a fervour I've not seen him apply to ANY other area of his life, was a winner not once, but twice, scooping dinner for two and a bottle of wine of his choice (by a huge stroke of fortune, he went for pink Prosecco, which coincidentally is MY favourite wine as well). Even if you don't win, and spend the night smiling graciously through gritted teeth and begrudgingly applauding the winners, there is much good-value fun to be had here - deals change regularly, but last night we each had three courses for £20 a head (including bingo). The food here is simple but good, allowing a choice from a small selection of daily specials: I went for Cornish crab cakes for starters, while Mr Liz broke with tradition and had - oh - PIE, this time in the guise of a generous Ploughman's.

For mains, I went for the BBQ chicken with loaded potato skins and homemade coleslaw - succulent, boneless rolls of skin-on chicken, secured with cocktail sticks and with a jug of sweet, tangy sauce on the side. And I'm a SUCKER for homemade coleslaw. Meanwhile, Mr Liz was enjoying spicy slow cooked ribs with a warm salad of roasted new potatoes and tarragon - I show you a picture of it on the plate here, rather than round his mouth, which is where it soon ended up.

Puddings were not strictly necessary, particularly since the bingo was just starting up by this point, but for the sake of completeness, I had strawberry Eton mess, and Mr Liz had Dandelion and Burdock cake - pastry fork in one hand, dabber poised in the other. And add to this the best "B" of all - BRINGING your own wine or beer is positively welcomed here, although you can also choose from the excellent wine list (or indeed, simply sit with a man who is winning items from it). Love2Eat is a gem, and a fitting end to any triumphant "B-Day".

SoLIta Restaurant Opens its Doors in the Northern Quarter: Local Girl is Smitten, Although Fatter than Before

Anyone who uses social media will pretty much be aware by now what a double-edged sword sites such as Twitter can be. Particularly if you're fool enough to follow a crowd of people who are just as greedy and food-obsessed as you are. Yes, these people are erudite, and witty, and helpful for instant cooking advice; yes, I've made lots of lovely, real-life friends with similar interests to my own; and yes, I've heard about all manner of interesting bars and restaurants that I wouldn't necessarily have known about otherwise. And yet, anyone who has ever been sat quietly at home, trying to enjoy a bowl of no-points vegetable soup and perhaps engage in some intellectual pursuit or other, will know the frustration of having a stream of what can only be described as FOOD PORN popping up on your timeline. GordoManchester is eating his own body weight in beef! Hungry Hoss is going back for seconds! The Hungry Manc has a sticky chin! And all of this accompanied by glistening, desirable, IRRESISTABLE pictures of quivering delicacies that you currently DO NOT HAVE.

This cruel phenomenon has perhaps never been more evident than in the steady stream of gastro porn emanating from SoLIta this week; this new, achingly fabulous restaurant and bar doesn't even open until tomorrow night, but a clever marketing campaign that has basically involved luring in all the biggest greed-faces that Manchester has to offer, feeding them, and then letting them tweet about it, means that SURELY there is no-one left in the North of England who HASN'T seen at least one picture of that pulled pork sundae. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em - finally, FINALLY, last night it was my turn to be the porn purveyor.

But before the food, the location. SoLIta is on Turner Street, a slightly less well-known part of the Northern Quarter, and aims to establish itself as a friendly, welcoming, good-value local restaurant that combines the best of New York, Italy and Manchester - the name is short for "South of Little Italy", harking back to the days when Ancoats was home to a large Italian population. The venue is deceptively big - the ground floor bar is pocket-sized, offering just thirty covers, but there are two private dining areas upstairs and a massive, sound-proofed bar downstairs. SoLIta is also justly proud to be the only restaurant in Manchester with an Inka grill - basically a huge, indoor charcoal barbecue that had Mr Liz slavering with want and clearly mentally plotting how much floorboard reinforcement we'd need to have one at home (I'll save him some time here - NO).

Once we'd had our tour, the food began to arrive. They are still tweaking the menu ready for tomorrow's big launch, but this is the kind of thing you can expect:

- Rooster Scratchings: anyone who has ever roasted a chicken purely so they can pick off all the crispy bits of skin afterwards under the guise of helpfully stripping the carcass will need no persuasion from me that legitimising this practice by serving hot, crunchy, salty triangles of chicken skin in a restaurant is a most excellent step forward in culinary terms. You see them here with a saucy glass of Aperol spritz, which SoLIta is keen to see as the drink of the summer, if only the sun would come out.

- Salt Cod Balls served with salsa mayo: crisp on the outside; hot, soft fish on the inside, and all the while sitting nonchalantly astride a blob of the freshest, greenest sauce. It looked for a moment like Mr Liz wasn't going to get one of these; I will just say it was one of the saddest, most angst-ridden moments I have ever had to witness - I swear he almost kissed the waitress for sheer relief when his own perky ball appeared.

- Sourdough Toast with Bacon Jam: I have a fairly shrewd idea that bloggers across Manchester will have awakened this morning craving nothing more than a good big dollop of smoky-sweet porcine stickiness on their Warburton's - not since the Almost Famous Triple Nom Burger have I awoken with such an overwhelming desire to eat all over again what I ate the night before.

- Pulled Pork Sundae: obviously, this was the one we'd all been waiting for - tender sweet pork in a rich barbecue sauce under a crown of 60/40 mashed potato. The 40 relates to the percentage of butter in the mash, but as a responsible patron, head honcho Dom promises to alert your doctor if you eat this dish more than three times in a month *nods approvingly whilst secretly plotting a cunning disguise, perhaps involving a stick-on moustache, to circumvent cruel limit*

- After that little lot, we were on to the mains. We particularly enjoyed the Hanger Steak, which really showed off the full potential of the Inka grill: perfectly pink and moist on the inside but smoky and charcoal-infused on the outside. The Inka Grilled Vegetables had similarly benefitted from their brush with the grill, and we also loved the accompanying "house sauce", a salsa verde made with capers, parsley, olive oil and anchovies. The only dish we were less certain of was the Deep Fried Mac 'n' Cheese with Pulled Pork - we agreed as a table that the pork, lovely on its own, was too sweet with the rich macaroni cheese, which would have worked perfectly well on its own and didn't need to be jazzed up by being squeezed into into a brioche. Obviously, we still ate it all, in the interests of professionalism and all that.

- Lastly, we sampled the dessert that had been tantalising my timeline all week - the Deep Fried Coke. This inventive offering - coke syrup encapsulated in churros batter, fried until golden and then dusted with sugar and cinnamon - was delicious, and pretty much sums up for me the combination of innovation and tradition that informs the ethos behind this splendid new restaurant. Prices are extremely reasonable, quality is high, and the staff are lovely: there will no doubt be a massive queue when SoLIta opens its doors tomorrow night at 6pm - and I really suggest that you join it.

- SoLIta is on Turner Street in Manchester's Northern Quarter, tel. 0161 839 5600 - check out the full glorious, gluttonous menu on their website.

Dangerous Dairy Diary Dates: The International Cheese Awards 2012 and Fresco Freddo's Gelateria Threaten to Wreck Brave Girl's Diet

First of all, apologies for the longish silence (or, alternatively: you're welcome). Things to do in Manchester has been away, on a spiritual retreat which blended a strict macrobiotic diet with strenuous bootcamp sessions and not - NOT - on a jolly to South Wales to dip its feet in the sea and eat fish and chips. And because I've spent a week restoring my ayurvedic chakra and not - NOT - stuffing my face with fish and chips, I can allow myself to be very excited about these forthcoming dairy-based feasts.

Firstly, it's almost time for this year's International Cheese Awards - the 115th time that assorted cheese makers, connoisseurs and just general greed-faces from all over the world will convene in Nantwich to sample and judge each other's cheesy wares. Last year’s competition saw 3,730 entries from 26 countries jostling for awards in 300 different categories; this year entries are coming from as far afield as China, although there will also be a specialist market area dedicated to smaller, independent cheese makers. Judging takes place on Tuesday 24th July (I'm thinking back to my school days here, and regretting that I didn't have the foresight to request careers guidance on how to qualify as a cheese judge) and then the show is open to the public on Wednesday 25th. As they are expecting around 35,000 visitors on the Wednesday, I would suggest the following:

1. Set off early, in order to be first through the doors and, by extension, first at the cheese.
2. Sharpen your elbows, in case you are tardy setting off and need to push early-birds out of the way. If your grandma can lend you a tartan shopping trolley to help block others, so much the better.
3. Do NOT eat breakfast - toast is simply empty calories when you could be leaving room for extra Stilton later.
4. Do NOT expect to actually see the Gino D’Acampo demonstration; you may be able to hear him, but remember he is only small, and will be hidden behind all the tartan shopping trolleys. You may have more luck with James Martin and Jean-Christophe Novelli, for they are taller.
5. In the absence of a tartan shopping trolley, take a number of the biggest bags you can find with you. I have already struck an entirely fair deal with Mr Liz that I will carry the bags there, and he can carry them home when they contain seven kilos of cheese in individual, sample-sized portions.

Tickets cost £14 in advance - for more information or to book places see the Cheese Awards website - and then accept that you simply won't sleep for excitement between now and the 25th.

In dairy news part two, I note with a small skip of joy that Manchester's Oxford Road is soon to welcome Fresco Freddo's Gelateria, a new haven of summeriness which promises us sun-starved Mancunians twenty two different varieties of gelato and sorbet so that we may pretend we are wandering along a deserted stretch of sun-dappled Italian coast rather than being splashed by buses and poked in the eye by umbrellas. Rather sensibly, they are also planning to offer hot desserts including crepes and waffles, but the real draw here will be the gelato, which is essentially ice-cream's healthier, more satisfying cousin: low in fat with no artificial flavourings, made with milk rather than butter cream and containing around 25-30% air compared to ice-cream's 50%. The launch date looks set to be towards the end of July - keep an eye on their currently rather enigmatic website for future announcements.

Anyway, with that little lot coming up, I for one am pretty relieved that I didn't consume my own body weight in cheese and ice-cream last week - now I'm off to dig out my shopping trolley and investigate the possibility of chic, Italian-style stretch-waisted trousers...

The Mark Addy Gourmet Evening June 2012; This Time, it's NORMAL

Now, I realise that for regular readers, it's about the time of the month that I entertain you with tales of testicle-eating and squirrel-bothering at the venerable Mark Addy, whose monthly Gourmet Evenings are as delicious as they are bonkers. What would chef Robert Owen Brown have worked his magic on this month? A well-meaning friend at work kindly suggested perhaps it would be a slug risotto, whilst another simply begins humming the theme to I'm a Celebrity whenever I hove into view. Well, you PHILISTINES - it's not about shock value, it's about cooking with whatever happens to be seasonal, local, available and good; and this month, there's really nothing that anyone could turn their noses up at (unless they were a vegetarian of course; the Gourmet Evening remains solidly unsuitable for non-meat eaters). Here's what we had:

1. Glebeland City Growers Salad with Poached Egg and Bacon. Glebelands, on the banks of the Mersey in Sale, produces organic food for consumption within Greater Manchester; most admirable, of course, although Mr Liz did look a little crestfallen when this first, apparently healthy, course was announced. He needn't have worried of course: this was salad ROB style, i.e. served with a big fat poached egg and a generous amount of salty porcine chunks, and as any fool knows, you can have pretty much anything you want with salad leaves and it's still good for you, FACT*.

*Although I am not technically a qualified nutritionist, I still whole-heartedly believe this to be true.

2. Cider Marinated Cornish Sardines with Scallop and Deep-Fried Herring Roe. This was the most unusual course of the night and it was also the best, the cold, sharp, tangy fish contrasting beautifully with the hot, crunchy, golden puffs of battered roe. I have a photo of it here, but the quality is poor, due to the iphone flash having been crafted by a malicious goblin in the fiery pit of Hades. I'm sorry to let you all down with this, but frankly you should blame Apple, not me, and maybe write a letter or something.

3. Wood Pigeon with Black Pudding and Pea Shoots. Turns out, there are some things that are just MEANT to go together. And lo, tonight at The Addy a new duo was born, with two new names to add to the already illustrious roll call of perfect pairings: Lennon & McCartney, Morrissey & Marr, Morecambe & Wise, Fry & Laurie...and now wood pigeon and black pudding. Tender, gamey morsels of pink pigeon roosting atop a crumbly disc of Bury's finest - a perfect combination of flavours and textures that sadly never stood a chance of lasting even as long as Morrissey & Marr. I even have good photos now, as I have turned off the flash and Mr Liz is suspending himself over the table illuminating the scene with the torch app on his own phone. Never let it be said I am ANYTHING other than a true and dedicated professional.

4. Mutton with Cream and Capers. By ROB's reckoning, all that salad to start meant that our arteries were now as clean as a whistle and could thereby justify THIS, a heavenly yet sturdy dish of slow-cooked mutton (which to my mind has a much better flavour than lamb if you cook it right) in a rich sauce cut through with the salty freshness of caper berries. As I swiped up the last of the cream sauce on my finger I couldn't help thinking it was a mighty fine job I had eaten all my pea shoots as well as my salad, or I might have been guilty of over-indulgence here.

5. Gooseberry Fool. As a child of the 70s and 80s, I remember gooseberry fool as a pretty formative part of those early years, served up to great enthusiasm and acclaim even from a bunch of picky kids who all had wildly differing food tastes. My mum makes a GREAT gooseberry fool. Now, as she doesn't read this blog, I can say* that it turns out that ROB's fool is EVEN BETTER than my mum's - so good, in fact, I had two. I am most ashamed of myself, and can promise that it will not happen again**.

*I am however going to say it very quietly, in case my sister is reading this and tells my mum - I can simply claim she misheard.

**It very probably WILL happen again.

6. Shropshire Blue Cheese. I had offered to forgo my cheese course in return for extra dessert, and meant it: there was a very worrying possibility that I might burst during this part of the evening. However, I eschewed the crackers and only nibbled the end sections of cheese, thereby scotching in one deft stroke any rumours you may have heard about me being a big fat greed-face.

So, a great night, and adventurous as I am, I must admit this was my favourite menu yet - pretty much all things I would have chosen anyway, particularly the fish course. I can't help worrying though, that with all this month's restraint there's going to be something REALLY terrifying next month...

- The Mark Addy is on Stanley St in Salford, M3 5EJ; tel. 0161 832 4080.

Local Girl Finally Finds Natural Habitat at New Manchester Gin EMPORIUM, The Whim Wham Cafe

I often think I should have been born in the nineteenth century, perhaps around 1836 or similar. True, I'm not sure about the whole outside toilet thing (although I DO quite like the idea of those great big tin baths in front the fire - I'm having first water, mind) or indeed, the general lack of home comforts that would likely befall me: I'm picturing a mattress made of straw, perhaps to be shared with a family of mice and a smaller sister or two, although I'm not entirely sure of the historical accuracy of this - we only really did Hitler at school. But I'm exactly the right build for those nice bodicey-type dresses and - most importantly - to the best of my knowledge, the whole of Britain lived almost entirely on gin during this period, thereby making the 1800s my natural milieu of choice.

Now, much to my delight, Manchester has its own mecca for sophisticated, urbanite, gin-loving wenches like myself in the shape of the new Whim Wham Cafe, snugly housed under one of the railway arches on Whitworth Street West. As with many of the best recent Manchester ventures, word has spread via Twitter, and as anyone who uses this particular social networking site will know, it's both exhilarating and infuriating in equal measures to find your timeline clogged up with well-meaning folk trumpeting about how they're swilling gin cocktails in the most gorgeous new place.

Well guess what? I've been swilling gin cocktails in the most gorgeous new place, and you must go there immediately. Frankly, you should go there even if you don't like gin (although if I see you, I will look at you disapprovingly), as there is a good selection of British beers (local where possible - Mr Liz had a manly pint of Beartown Brewery Polar Eclipse whilst all around him were drinking pink gin frippery), and the food is really quite something. Owners Alix and Jessica have set their stall out to offer top-quality artisan produce, locally sourced where possible, including award-winning pies from Neil Broomfields's Great North Pie Co. and cheese and meat platters served with their own chutney. For starters, I went for what is fast-becoming Whim Wham's signature dish - Slow Poach Mackerel in Horseradish and Worcester Liquor served with Apple and Beetroot Salad. This is Alix's own invention, and can be seen here in all its fishy, tangy, it's-salad-so-it-must-be-good-for-you glory (nb - my friend chose this as well - I didn't order and consume BOTH of these, although I would have liked to).

For mains, Mr Liz rather predictably had pie (Classic Lancashire Cheese and Onion), which came with Lemon and Thyme Potato Salad for £7.50. Please note that, as this dish contained no meat, Mr Liz considered it a healthy, noble sort of choice, despite the fact that any normal person could quickly identify the double potato and pastry combo that sadly negates his virtue. The rest of us chose the Slow Roast Oxtail with Chickpea Mash and Cabbage, seen here after the de-boning pixies had worked their magic and before I'd licked my plate clean (turned out this was not, unfortunately, a suitable activity for anyone who had erroneously decided to wear white jeans for the evening).

Did we need pudding? No, but if someone will offer to sell you a big slab of Sticky Toffee Pudding served with Salted Caramel and Peanut Butter Ice Cream from Ginger's Comfort Emporium for a FIVER, then frankly you'd be mad to say no. Other choices - the Double Chocolate Slice with White Chocolate Ganache and the Pecan Tart with Cointreau Cream* - also went down well.

*If you look closely at the illustrative evidence here provided, you will observe the ONLY fault with the whole evening - regardez the NAKED Pecan Tart. However, my friend decided not to draw attention to the missing cream for fear she'd be brought a vat of it and then burst.

Last but clearly not least, the GIN. Between us we sampled The Whim Wham Martini, a Black & Blue from the "Long Drinks" section, The Gin Wham spritzer and the straight up Vimto Smile (a winning combination of Manchester's finest and Sloe Gin). These are all priced between £5 and £7.50; our favourite was the Martini, a potent hit of Hendrick's, Cherry Liqueur and Martini Rosso, with a secret ingredient which we fancied might be something to do with cloves, or perhaps aniseed (further testing to be completed before final decision taken on this matter - I take my professional duties VERY seriously).

This compact little bar looks set to be a huge success, and deservedly so. Hardened 19th century wench/good-time girl/show pony that I am, I was worried a new place brazenly promising itself as "Manchester's Epicurean Eatery and Gin Saloon" could never live up to its name. I am pleased to say it does - and then some...*goes off, flouncing skirts, can-canning for sheer joy*

- The Whim Wham Cafe is at Arch 64, Whitworth Street West, Manchester M1 5WO - no website as yet, but you can hunt them down on Twitter and Facebook or, you know, just go and visit them.

Monkey Shoulder Cocktail Bootcamp at Apotheca, Dancing at NoHo and Dinner at Bem Brasil: Newly Skilled Local Girl All But Explodes With Excitement

I'll be honest: this may be a shorter blog post than normal. It may be shorter than normal, because I am tired. I am tired because of Monkey Shoulder, an exceptionally palatable blended whisky which forced me to have the time of my life last night. And as the subject of this possibly-shorter-than-normal blog post is Monkey Shoulder, the whole arrangement has a rather pleasing symmetry about it.

"But Liz!" I hear you cry, if I listen very hard and use my imagination quite a lot. "What on earth can have happened to undermine your normally peerless standards of professionalism?"

Cocktail BOOTCAMP, that's what. There was I, innocently expecting a good, wholesome, healthy workout; instead, THIS is what happened.

4pm: arrive at the super-cool Apotheca bar in the Northern Quarter, whose basement area will be hosting tonight's cocktail class. Two charming men from Monkey Shoulder - Dean and Olivier, both of whom have berets a-poking from their back pockets: we ask not why - are all apologies: they are running a little late and the start of the class will be delayed. Can we bear to sit upstairs in Apotheca a little longer whilst they bring us complimentary Monkey Shoulder cocktails? Although disappointed that our physical exercise is to be delayed, we agree and I put my sweat bands and my sports socks back in my bag.

5.20pm: we are taken downstairs to behold the classroom of our DREAMS - we each have our own, fully equipped place at tables set with shakers, chopping boards, measuring beakers, glasses, sugar syrup, oranges...oh, and there appears to be a full-size bottle of Monkey Shoulder whisky per TWO people. A hushed reverence falls over our previously giddy group (those complimentary cocktails upstairs went down a treat) and we each start silently calculating just how dangerous this might be.

5.21pm: the Monkey Shoulder ambassadors put on their berets (ah - NOW we get it), pick up their megaphones and begin an hour and a half lesson on all things cocktail. We watch and learn how to make three drinks - the Old Fashioned, the Jam Sour, and a spur-of-the moment creation called the Monkey Swizzle involving pineapple and mint - it really couldn't be more hands-on, and we are encouraged to mix proportions according to our own tastes (why else would Mr Liz's whisky bottle go down quicker than anyone else's?) and learn from our own mistakes. I am most pleased with all three of my efforts, particularly the Jam Sour - who knew that such a fine creation could be concocted from lemon juice, whisky and a few scrapings of Bonne Maman? Dean and Olivier are quick to answer any questions, and when Dean proclaims my Monkey Swizzle better than his own, I almost fall off my chair with pride (or, on reflection, it could have been the whisky). At the end we all applaud loudly and lustily (and, quite drunkenly), and make a mental note to cross out "milk" from our shopping lists and replace with "large bottle of Monkey Shoulder".

6.58pm: sprint back upstairs to the main bar to order some excellent Mojitos before Apotheca's splendid "two cocktails for £9" offer ends at 7.

7.30pm: we brave the rain and are rewarded with an empty NoHo. This is my favourite bar in the Northern Quarter - not least because when it's quiet, the DJ will let you bully him into playing your choice of music. We spend a happy hour or so gracing the enormous dancefloor to the hip, up-to-the-minute sounds of The Smiths, Electronic, David Bowie and The Happy Mondays - this is what hard-working whisky bartenders DO when they've finished their shift, and we were pleased to be able to get our promised exercise after all.

9pm: after all that hard work, it was only right to replace all those burnt-off calories by eating our own bodyweight in meaty goodness at the Northern Quarter branch of Bem Brasil. I have nothing but good things to say about a restaurant that gives you a disc of card that you place alongside your plate, with the green side upwards for "yes! please bring me MEAT, as much as you can carry, and carve it at my table from its skewer into my hungrily waiting mouth" and the rueful red side facing up for a regretful "no thank you - I fear there is a serious possibility I may explode. But ask me again in three minutes and you may well find my card is green again." The food here is of great quality and variety: different cuts of steak as well as lamb, sausages, chicken in bacon, ham, garlic bread and - worth the price of admission alone - the hot cinnamon pineapple served up as afters. Even better, one of our party had not encountered a Bem Brasil before - always fun to watch a newbie pile their plate high from the salad counter before they fully comprehend quite how much meat will be brought.

?????: taxi home; bed. One of the most splendid nights out I have ever had - so splendid, in fact, that it seems to have written itself into a pretty long blog post after all. Thank you Monkey Shoulder - long may your most excellent programme of educating the nation's youth continue.

Competition Time: Win a Pair of Tickets for Rat Pack Live at The Lowry, Salford in September 2012

One of the very nicest things about getting older is that you're allowed to like whatever music you want, without fear of recrimination. This is particularly true if you spend your daylight hours in the company of people in their late teens, who are uniformly so amazed that you can walk and talk under your own steam that they are in danger of passing out altogether should they discover that you shop at TopShop and have a passing familiarity with what I believe is known in modern youth vernacular as the Hit Parade. Even better, as in their heads you are approximately 115 years old they gape in sheer astonishment as you admire their Joy Division or Blondie t-shirt, or comment sadly on your inability to get hold of Stone Roses tickets.

However, whilst it's wholly acceptable (and indeed admirable) to cling fondly to the songs from your 80s and 90s teenage years, it is also entirely permissable to mock your long-suffering husband for listening to Old FM in the car. I have long since enjoyed this pursuit, soundly haranguing poor Mr Liz for his love of what can only be described as "music off of black and white" - until recently, that is. I have gradually come round to his love of Frank Sinatra (particularly the big New York, New York type numbers, which lend themselves so splendidly to singing along at the top of one's voice in the confines of a car, much to the delight of the person unlucky enough to be driving at the time) and Dean Martin, whose Volare simply DEMANDS to be belted out in an authentically sultry Italian style.

So it is with little reluctance that I am accompanying an excited Mr Liz to see Rat Pack Live at The Lowry on Friday 7th September - a brand new show featuring the music of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr which brings the stars from the West End hit Rat Pack Live from Las Vegas to the altogether more glamorous surroundings of Rat Pack Live from, erm, Salford. You can find out more about the show here, on The Lowry website, but - even more excitingly - you can win a pair of tickets to see the show HERE. Over to the experts...

Things to do in Manchester has teamed up with the producers of the Rat Pack Live concert show to give a lucky reader the chance of winning a pair of tickets to see the spectacular production at the Lowry Theatre, Salford on Friday 7th September 2012 at 7.30pm.

It's the ultimate tribute to legendary Fifties and Sixties phenomenon the Rat Pack – Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jnr. They were the definition of cool during their Fifties and Sixties Vegas heyday – just ask Mr Liz. Combining the full sound of big band swing with charisma, panache and swagger, the trio – collectively known as The Rat Pack – had attitude to spare.

Join the UK’s original Rat Pack concert show, featuring stars of the West End smash hit Rat Pack Live from Las Vegas:

Following his triumphant portrayal of Dean Martin in London’s West End, Mark Halliday went on to tour the USA, Europe and the UK with the famous production. Other credits include two years in the States creating the role of Hades in Disney’s new musical Hercules plus lead appearances in runaway touring hit shows Girls Night Out and Aspects of Love.

The evening’s Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jnr boast similarly impressive credentials including, respectively:
· Starring roles with the BBC Concert Orchestra, Passadena Roof Orchestra and Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Orchestra plus appearances with the likes of Sandie Shaw, Sophie Ellis Bextor and Mica Paris
· National tours portraying Sammy Davis Jnr with the West End Rat Pack and Nat King Cole in Strictly Swing.

Together the talented trio combine superbly. . .spectacularly. . . swingsationally in The Rat Pack Live. Featuring all the patter and razzamatazz of the Rat Pack’s infamous live stage show, join the UK’s number one Frank, Dean and Sammy live concert extravaganza. Prepare to experience the definition of cool…courtesy of www.easytheatres.com.

To win tickets please answer this simple question: The Rat Pack Live features tributes to Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jnr and which other famous Fifties and Sixties crooner? The first entry drawn will win a pair of tickets to the show.

Send your answer by email to manchestercomps@hotmail.co.uk with your name, address, email address and daytime phone number before the closing date of midnight on Sunday 1st July 2012. First prize will go to the first entry randomly drawn on this date. There is no cash alternative. Usual rules apply and my decision is final (I LOVE saying this).

To buy tickets contact The Lowry Box office via their website or by calling 0843 208 6000 between 9.30am and 8pm Monday to Saturday or 11am and 6pm on Sundays.

Good luck...and I'll leave you with this publicity shot of the cast, winningly entitled "New rats" - I'm off to practise my a-swinging and a-crooning.

Jim White at The Lowry, Salford: Local Girl Now Transformed into Hard-Drinking American Broad

Now, in my (almost) five years of writing this blog, I have discovered it to have two key advantages. Firstly, it is an excellent displacement activity for all kinds of undesirable tasks such as housework, exercise, doctoral work etc; indeed, if ANYONE approaches you with a request for which you care little, all you need to do is furrow your brow, peer intellectually at the screen of the laptop, mime furiously efficient typing movements and hiss "I'm WORKING" and the chances are that person will respectfully back off. Secondly - and some might say more importantly - writing a blog encourages you to try things you might not otherwise have considered, or known about; take my recent conversion to whisky, for example, at the behest of the charmingly persuasive Liquorists, documented in all its hazy debauchery here.

And it's entirely in keeping with my new persona as a glamorously down-at-heel whisky drinker (it's important here that you picture me sitting alone somewhere, late at night, with a sad yet worldy-wise expression on my face, drinking whisky and smoking a cigarette in the manner of Marlene Dietrich or similar, rather than the actuality of me slurping tea in my pyjamas and watching the football highlights) that I have also broadened my musical horizons. For on Sunday night I was invited to review the Jim White gig in the intimate Quays Theatre at The Lowry; I'd never heard of him before, but a quick listen to a few of his songs on You Tube convinced me that this talented singer-songwriter from the deep south of America would be the perfect accompaniment to my new incarnation as wronged yet exquisite late night whisky drinker.

Obviously, you can listen to his songs yourself - and indeed you should. The current album, Where it Hits You, is a fabulously beautiful record - wistful and emotional, it's best listened to in a mildly somnolent state where you simply let the sound wash over you (but more of this later): my favourite tracks are the first two - Chase the Dark Away, which you can listen to here, and Sunday's Refrain, which I will hum for you if you give me a call when I'm not busy. What's harder to put into words, though, is just how entertainingly odd a Jim White gig turns out to be. First of all, the support act - the Belgian twosome Stanton - are also his band; he produced their new album, so they all sang some - excellent - songs from this debut for 25 minutes before trooping off for half an hour (presumably to allow the audience to sneak in a bonus gin and tonic). Then they were back, this time with Jim centre-stage, for an hour and a half of singing and what can only be described as story-telling - If Jesus Drove a Motorhome is preceded by a very funny story about Jesus impersonators in his own hometown, and the irritatingly catchy Newspaper is put movingly into context with a tale of illness, near-death and redemption through criminals with amusing names. He promises that we will be able to read all these stories and more in his forthcoming book - if he ever gets round to finishing it.

The new album has received almost whole-heartedly postitive reviews since its release - Uncut awarded it "Americana Album of the Month", whilst The Independent on Sunday rightly commented "there's always room for the real thing, and you'll know it when it hits you" - but it really comes into its own once you've seen Jim White live and can feel the personality behind the songs. If I got the opportunity to go again, I would - particularly as, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to attend Sunday's gig in quite the persona I would have liked. Was I lolling in my seat, drunk on hard liquor and tired from one too many doomed love affairs and perhaps some late nights reading the latest Don DeLillo? Nope - I was lolling in my seat, drunk on the equally heady combination of a gin and tonic, some heavy duty cold and flu meds and a head full of snot; still, I'm hoping that the overall effect to any interested onlookers was pretty much the same...

- you can hear more tales from the South on Jim White's MySpace page; please insert your own nose-blowing sound effects where required.

Things to Do in Manchester in June: Drinking, Mostly...

Now don't get me wrong - I like a four day weekend as much as the next person. More, possibly, if that next person is a responsible, grown-up sort of individual. But it's all too horribly easy to get a little bit carried away with the whole laissez faire, anything goes sort of atmosphere that tends to pervade these occasions: a barbecue here, a house-warming party there, a quick beer festival to tide you over...and before you know it, those cute little denim shorts you purchased in a flush of summery optimism last week are starting to look distressingly unfeasible. And that's before we even start considering the damage done to your loyal, hard-working liver: yes, Pimm's MAY taste like pop, but apparently it counts as alcohol (so they say, anyway: I'm not sure I'm having ANY of it).

The sensible thing to do, then, is to have a pure, virtuous few days to undo all that damage, and emerge like a gorgeous sparkly butterfly from its grumpy, puffy-eyed, muffin-topped chrysalis at the end of it. And that's precisely why it's SO UNFAIR that a whole raft of lovely, shiny, booze-fuelled events are offering themselves up, slinkily and seductively, for my attention over the next couple of weeks. Here are just a few of the temptations that have been so cruelly strewn in my path:

1. First up, it's Whisky Month at Selfridges between June 8th and 24th; not quite a month, admittedly, in my understanding of the word, but as events are taking place at both the Trafford Centre and Exchange Square stores then perhaps each day counts twice. There are various tastings and events scattered alluringly across June, including a Glenmorangie tasting on Saturday June 9th (ironically, these tastings will be FULL of thirsty boys who already know EXACTLY what each of the whiskies on offer tastes like *looks pointedly at Mr Liz, who is looking at the ceiling and whistling innocently*) and a special Jura cocktail-making event at Exchange Square on Thursday 21st June with Willie Tait, Global Brand Ambassador for the Jura Single Malt. Full details available in store - I think Mr Liz is simply planning on dividing the remainder of June equally between the two stores and sampling whatever gets in his way.

2. But here we have our first alcohol pile-up: Thursday 21st June is also wine tasting night at Manchester's Castlefield Rooms - indeed, more wines than you can shake a stick at, for it is the 50 Great Portuguese Wines Tasting Event. The wines have all been selected by Master of Wine Julia Harding, who was awarded Portugal’s Journalist of the Year in 2011 and who has been tirelessly scouring the country for prime wines to set before us ever since (brave...SO brave). Tickets are a mere £10 but must be booked in advance - further details from winesofportugal@cubecom.co.uk.

3. And speaking of Thursdays, the excellent "Series" of events continues at The Avenue, Spinningfields, with each achingly desirable shop taking it in turns to host a soiree with complimentary drinks provided by the Yacht Club. Last week's pop-up art exhibition in Flannels was just stunning, and although unfortunately tomorrow's event has had to be postponed, keep an eye on the website for details of next week's - I already know what it is, and I can confirm I am EXCITED.

4. So finally, after all that boozing, it's only right that I've enrolled in boot camp...*dramatic pause, smug trickster face, Alan Partridge tone of voice*...ha ha, that's right - COCKTAIL boot camp. Now this really does look like the sort of exercise I might be very good at - the team behind Monkey Shoulder Whisky will be strenuously putting us through our paces and cracking the whip as we learn how to make a range of drinks including the imperious Old-Fashioned and the exciting-sounding Jam Sour. We each get our own shaker, stirrer and swizzle stick (here's guessing that Mr Liz's shaker will be empty long before boot camp leader Dean Callan is even halfway through his instructions) and get to play at being Tom Cruise for a full hour and a half before anybody will think to step in and stop us. I for one can't wait for this one, as I'm always ready to leap at an, ahem, educational opportunity. The Monkey Shoulder Boot Camp arrives in Manchester on Saturday 16th and Sunday 17th June, with a 4pm session on each day at Apotheca - places are free but must be pre-booked by emailing MonkeyShoulder@anonymousartists.co.uk beforehand.

Still, never mind - there's ALWAYS July...